When she heard the voice, and saw the awful apparition of her uncle (for a year’s sojourn in purgatory had not increased the comeliness of his appearance), she started, screamed, and of course fainted.
But the devil Mercurius soon restored her to herself. ‘What’s o’clock?’ said she, as soon as she had recovered from her fit: ‘is he come?’
‘Not thy lover, Maude, but thine uncle—that is, his soul. For the love of heaven, listen to me: I have been frying in purgatory for a year past, and should have been in heaven but for the want of a single ave.’
‘I will say it for thee to-morrow, uncle.’
‘To-night, or never.’
‘Well, to-night be it:’ and she requested the devil Mercurius to give her the prayer-book from under the table; but he had no sooner touched the holy book than he dropped it with a shriek and a yell. ‘It was hotter,’ he said, ‘than his master Sir Lucifer’s own particular pitchfork.’ And the lady was forced to begin her ave without the aid of her missal.
At the commencement of her devotions the dæmon retired, and carried with him the anxious soul of poor Sir Roger de Rollo.
The lady knelt down—she sighed deeply; she looked again at the clock, and began—
‘Ave Maria——’
When a lute was heard under the window, and a sweet voice singing—